


An Anthology of Firsts

by theredarmada



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fluff, SHIELD Academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredarmada/pseuds/theredarmada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the team is introduced to Fitz and Simmons, they are already a packaged deal complete with a combined nickname.  But how does a bond that strong even come about?  Every lifelong companionship comes from an anthology of firsts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Sight

Leo Fitz's mom insisted on dropping him off at Shield's SciTech academy. He told her over and over that she couldn't, that it was at an undisclosed location and even he wouldn't know where it was until he arrived. The two of them waited in the living room of their small cottage for his escort to arrive, a Shield operative who would take Leo to SciTech.

“But how will I know if you're safe if I can't drop you off?”

“I'll call you when I arrive and I'll tell you that I'm safe, yeah?”

“How will I know how long it'll take? When can I begin to worry?”

“You don't need to worry about me, mum, I'll be fine.”

His mother answered only with a stern look.

Leo sighed. “Fine. If you don't get a call in three days you'll know I've been captured by the Nazis.”

“Don't even joke about that, son.”

Smiling, Leo hugged his mother. “I promise I'll be okay.”

Two quick knocks at the front door interrupted them.

“Dr. Leopold Fitz?” a muffled voice carried in from the outside. “I'm Agent Hamilton. I've come to escort you to the academy.”

“I'm coming!” Leo called back. He looked back at his mother and said, “I gotta go.”

Martha Fitz, a short and stout woman with wildly curly blonde hair, held her son by the shoulders and looked up at him. “Could you do me a favor, son?”

“What is it?”

“Could you at least try to make a friend? I'm tired of seeing you so lonely.”

“I'll try my best,” Leo promised before opening the door and joining the agent outside.

 

Two days later Leo's belongings were messily unpacked in his dorm. He had called his mother and informed her that he was safe, not being forced to say he was safe, and no, he hadn't made any friends yet it's been two bloody days give a man some time.

He made his way down the stairs in his building and crossed an open grassy area to the dining hall. It felt like he was in university all over again, not that he was there for very long. Students – all much older than him, but that wasn't new – threw Frisbees, played instruments, and gossiped in circles like carefree undergrads. Leo wondered how he'd fit in and find friends among these people who were so different from himself.

As he entered the dining hall, he found himself in line behind an English girl with a brunette ponytail and a pink argyle sweater. She didn't turn around or look at him, but he found himself listening to the cadence of her voice as she talked on the flip phone that was tucked between her shoulder and her cheek.

“Yes, dad, I'm alright. It's just like university and I got through that.... I'm sure I will, everyone here is a scientist, I'm bound to get on with somebody... I know, everything will be great, don't worry. Send mum my love, okay?... Of course I'm getting fed, I'm getting food right now, actually... Okay I've got to go.... I know, but... Alright, goodbye dad.”

The girl hung up the phone and smiled at it fondly for a brief moment before slipping it into her pocket.

When she left with her food, Leo kicked himself for not saying anything to her then. In just that moment, he felt like he had come into proximity with a kindred spirit. He wondered if he'd ever see that girl again.

* * *

With two PhD's at the age of seventeen, Jemma Simmons was used to being the child among her academic peers. She had hoped that in being recruited by Shield she'd find someone else like her: a misunderstood child prodigy in desperate need of a friend. Or more.

But in three days of being on the SciTech Academy's campus, Jemma was feeling largely disappointed and underwhelmed. Though the average age of a shield academy scientist appeared to be a bit younger than that of the average graduate student, she was still the only one in sight who couldn't go to a bar and buy a drink, in Britain or America.

It was hard to be disappointed by something that at this point was so expected. Jemma understood the reality that she may never find someone her age and on her level whom she could bond with, but the little flame of hope in her heart kept flickering. But after three days, she could almost physically feel it extinguish as she walked into her first Shield Academy chemistry class.

Unfortunately, this was one of those lecture halls where you enter from the front of the room, with a hundred or so students staring down at you as you enter. The staring was multiplied by the fact that Jemma seemed to be the last one to arrive. There was only one seat left, front and center, beside a cute, curly-haired man in a sweater vest. She tried to hide her enthusiasm as she took her place next to him.

He looked young, but she couldn't be certain. She'd seen young-looking scientists who turned out to be awkward twenty-somethings with a vitamin D deficiency. He definitely had that. She doubted she had ever seen anyone so pasty. Or so handsome, but even then she couldn't be certain. When she sat down, he turned stiffly away from her and his standoffish posture hid most of his face.

How rude, she thought, though she didn't stop staring.

“Dr. Leopold Fitz?” the professor called out. The man next to her raised his hand up, not bothering to remove his elbow from the desk.

The professor looked down at his roll sheet again. “I'm not sure if there's another way to pronounce this... is there a Dr. Leopold Fitz here?”

The man beside Jemma raised his hand higher. “I'm right bloody here,” he mumbled in a distinctly Scottish accent. Jemma smiled to herself, understanding at once both his complexion and his disposition.

“Oh, there you are, Dr. Fitz,” the professor nodded in their direction. “One of the youngest to enter the Shield Academy of Science and Technology. Welcome.”

Jemma's eyes flitted back to Dr. Fitz with piqued interest. How old was he, exactly? Younger than her? She absently pondered his baby smooth jawline as the professor called roll, commenting on the accomplishments of each student. Several Harvard graduates. Two Nobel winners. A former Comms agent who recently got a PhD and decided to switch to the sciences. The list went on.

“Dr. Jemma Simmons?” Jemma shook herself and sat up straight, raising her hand high in the air.

“I'm here, professor.”

“Ah, Dr. Simmons. The youngest person to ever enter this academy. I look forward to working with you and seeing your development,” the professor nodded his congratulations.

“Thank you, sir,” Jemma replied hastily. “And I you.”

The young doctor next to her scoffed, looking slightly affronted.

Jemma raised her hand again and the professor paused his reading. “If you don't mind my asking, sir, may I ask who's the next youngest?”

“You're sitting next to him,” the professor nodded to Dr. Leopold Fitz, then returned to his roll.

Once again, Jemma's eyes found their way to the man beside her and this time he was looking back. Was she imagining the challenge in his face as his eyes locked onto hers? The eye contact lasted only for a moment before he turned away, facing forward and sitting up straight.

 _If it's not a friendship he wants, that's fine,_ Jemma thought. _I've never been afraid of a battle of wits._


	2. First Words

Jemma was determined to speak with the elusive Dr. Fitz. She wasn't sure what she wanted out of it. Did she want to be his friend? _It certainly would make sense for us to be friends,_ Jemma thought. They were both young, British prodigies who were scientifically minded and eager to have successful careers as Shield scientists. 

But was he her friend or her enemy? Were they competing for the same things – the same titles, the same recognition, the same connections – or could they achieve those things together? The latter was obviously preferred. Her mother had always said that it's better to make an ally than an enemy. But as long as Dr. Fitz didn't speak to her, a rivalry seemed inevitable. But that didn't mean she'd stop trying. Not yet, anyway. 

The first time their chemistry class met for lab, Jemma was pleased to note that Dr. Fitz was in her lab as well as the lecture. She gave a small nod of recognition as she took the seat beside him. He didn't even bat an eyelash in response. 

The following day in the lecture hall, Jemma arrived early. When Fitz took his seat beside her, she choked down her nerves, smiled and said, “Good morning.” Aside from a slightly constipated look, he gave no acknowledgment that he'd heard.

When Jemma noticed Dr. Fitz on campus, she made an effort to walk up to him and say hello. He'd furrow his brows, occasionally nod at her, but then he would maneuver away from her without saying a word. She began to take note of his daily routine and would _casually_ happen to be at the library and the dining hall when she knew he'd be there. They eventually made a habit of sitting together as they ate and studied. Again, he'd nod or make brief eye contact but would keep silent. One time when she was late to the dining hall, he waved at her from his table so she'd know where to sit, but his lips remained closed. 

Their routine grew familiar as the semester wore on. Even in silence, there was something comforting about just being in Dr. Fitz's presence. But it wasn't long until she began to wonder if their camaraderie was only in her head. Maybe he hated her, or was annoyed by how she was following him around all the time and was just too polite to say anything. Or perhaps he was sizing her up, looking over her shoulder at her work or purposefully distracting her to ensure his top marks. _How does that old adage go?_ She wondered. _Oh, yes: keep your friends close and your enemies closer._

Nine of the most frustrating weeks of her life passed before Jemma began to realize that pleasantries were not going to get him to speak to her. On the morning of their chemistry midterm, Jemma arrived earlier than Dr. Fitz, determined to make him talk to her. Instead of placing her book bag on the floor like she normally did, she placed it in his chair. _He'll have to ask me to move it,_ she plotted. 

When Fitz arrived, he stood behind his chair and blew out a long puff of air. Then he gingerly took Jemma's bag by the handle and leaned it against her chair before taking his seat. _So much for that,_ she thought. 

When they got their exams back at the end of the next class meeting, Jemma leaned over Dr. Fitz's desk to look at his results. He got a 95%, which wasn't bad by any means but she had done better. She nudged her paper, with a 100% written at the top in big green letters, toward him. “Oh, Fitz,” she said to him, somewhere between a taunt and a flirt, “You know, if you need tutoring you can always ask me.” His beautiful blue eyes were downcast as he turned from her and left the lecture hall and her heart broke for him. Was he really that sad over a ninety-five percent? Or was it her words that made him look so despondent? 

She lied awake in bed all night, hoping she'd never make him look that way again.

The following afternoon in chem lab, their professor posted a paper on the wall by the door before making his way to the front of the classroom.

“Ahem,” the professor gathered the attention of the class. “For the remainder of the semester, you'll each be working with a partner. I have selected partners based on class grades and I've made sure that each pair contains at least one person with a chemistry degree. This was a painstaking process, and there will be _no changes whatsoever.”_ He shot a sharp look around the room. “You may do your projects in the private laboratories across the hall. Your name, your partner's name, and your first topic are listed on the paper I've posted on the wall. The topics are intentionally broad. Work together to come up with a project that exemplifies your topic. That's it for lab today.” 

Jemma Simmons crossed the room and fought her way through the mass of bodies to the paper. She thumbed down the middle column of names until she found her own before backing up to read the whole row. 

Thermodynamics Dr. Jemma Simmons Dr. Leopold Fitz

_Oh, yes._

Jemma broke from the crowd and stood next to the door, waiting for Dr. Fitz to read the paper and realize that there was no way he could avoid talking to her now. 

 

* * *

 

This had gotten way out of hand. 

_Understatement of the century, Leo,_ he scolded himself. 

Leo seemed to find himself everywhere that Dr. Simmons went. She was surprisingly kind, for someone who was being constantly bothered by a man who could earn a goddamn PhD in engineering at the age of seventeen but couldn't open his mouth to talk to someone he so desperately wanted to be close with. Why did she let him constantly hang around her? He figured she'd change her daily routines eventually to avoid the weird quiet kid, but she didn't seem to mind his incessant presence. But why? He figured he'd never know the answers to these questions.

His mother's voice still lingered at the back of his mind, telling him to make friends. But every time he looked at her, he couldn't figure out what to say. And the longer this went on, the more pressure he felt to say something smart enough to impress her. 

_Why?_ He wondered for at least the thousandth time.

They'd spent weeks side by side and he hadn't said a thing. It's not like she hadn't given him plenty of opportunities. In the beginning, she'd always greet him with a hello that for some stupid reason he couldn't bring himself to return. He'd just nod at her like an idiot. He still couldn't figure out why she let him hang around when he couldn't even talk to her. After a while, she wasn't saying anything either. They'd just make eye contact for a moment, and then settle in beside one another to eat their meals and do homework. They didn't even collaborate, despite having several of the same classes. Each moment they spent together Leo was torn up inside, half willing himself to say something, _anything,_ while the other half was stubbornly waiting until he thought of something clever enough to say. 

It had been too long to simply say, “Hi, Dr. Simmons, how are you getting on?” His words had to matter. 

They day they got their midterms back almost broke him. He had tried so hard to seem smart and studious, and was pleased with his exam results. But then Dr. Simmons looked over, said, “oh, Fitz,” in a condescending tone and then offered him tutoring, and he was broken. He'd never be smart enough to impress her. 

That didn't matter now. They were partnered together in chem lab, no changes, no exceptions. It was beginning to feel like the cosmos wanted them to be together. Dr. Simmons was a force of nature: unavoidable, unyielding, unable to appease. Fear engulfed Leo like an ocean current as he made his way toward her, casually leaning on the door frame like she wasn't the most daunting thing in his universe. 

He stopped in front of her, face blank and eyes wide. 

“So we're partners, then,” Dr. Simmons said with an edge to her voice. 

He nodded cautiously. 

She looked at the ground quickly before saying, “Ugh. Fine. Come on.” She turned on her heel and left the classroom, crossing the hall to Chem Lab 106. Leo shuffled after her and shut the door behind them. 

The lab was a breath of fresh air in comparison to the outdated labs Leo had experienced in university. The room wasn't particularly huge, but there was a huge table in the middle of the room topped with state-of-the-art chemistry equipment. There was a counter along the far side of the room with cabinets underneath that held anything a chemist could imagine. There was tablet affixed to the wall that allowed them to call the main lab for testing materials at the push of a button. What materials would they even use? Leo was familiar with the concept of thermodynamics, but from the perspective of an engineer. As per their professor's speech, he figured that Dr. Simmons had to have a chemistry degree and would know a thing or two about chemical energy. He looked at her expectantly, figuring she'd know where to get started. 

Dr. Simmons' textbook remained closed on the table beside Leo's own. Dr. Simmons herself was on her knees in front of an open cabinet, writing a list of all the equipment at their disposal. _Is she incredibly thorough, or is she stalling?_ Leo wondered as he knelt beside her. 

With a shaky hand, Dr. Simmons wrote, “20 beakers,” on her notepad. 

Leo gently placed his fingertips on Dr. Simmons' paper. They made brief eye contact, in which he asked the silent question: _Are you okay?_

Dr. Simmons shook him off and stood up, wiping an invisible tear from her eye. She opened her textbook and leaned over it with both hands on the table. “So, thermodynamics in chemistry...” she paused, looking down at her book, standing rigidly for a long moment. The silence seemed to stretch into eons. 

Finally, she looked up. “I can't do this,” she said. 

Leo raised his eyebrows at her in confusion. 

“I can't do this,” she repeated as if to clarify. “How am I supposed to get through the remainder of the semester like this? How are we supposed to work together when you won't even talk to me?” 

Blinking tears out of his eyes, Leo furrowed his brows at her, at a loss as he realized that he was completely out of time.

Dr. Simmons threw her head back and ran her fingers through the roots of her hair. “After all this time spent together on a nearly daily basis, do you really have nothing to say to me? Do you even know my name?” 

Leo's eyes fell to the floor, full of sadness and self-loathing. 

Simmons closed nearly all the space between them. They stood mere breaths apart when she sighed out, “Fitz!” 

“Simmons,” Leo murmured, barely audible. 

Her eyes went wide for only a second. “What did you just say?”

Fitz cleared his throat. “Simmons,” he repeated at a normal volume, “I have an idea.”


	3. First Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of their first chem lab presentation, Fitz and Simmons share their first physical contact.

Fitz and Simmons waddled into chem lab on presentation day, facing each other over Fitz's device that they had carried in together from the tech lab. Fitz walked backward, Simmons forward, directing him as they went. 

“A little to the left, Fitz!” Simmons called over the rattling of the nearly-finished machine, “you're going to run into--” 

“Oomph,” Fitz breathed as the air was knocked out of him when he backed into the corner of their desk. He righted himself and they hefted the device onto the desk. 

Simmons smirked as Fitz pushed back his cardigan, put his hands on his hips, elbows pointing straight out to the sides. “You see that? That, Simmons, is why I should drive.” 

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn't make any sense for you to drive, I'm taller so I can see over your head. Now if you'd just listen to me when I tell you to turn, you wouldn't keep running into things.” 

“Whatever, Simmons,” Fitz mumbled, looking at his feet. “Do you have the chemicals?” 

“No, I left them in Professor Vaughn's office. I told him you'd be there to pick them up,” she smirked. 

“Now why would you do a thing like that?” Fitz huffed. “You know the man hates me.” 

“I don't blame him, the way you keep falling asleep in his class,” Simmons replied, giving Fitz a slightly annoyed look. 

“I don't see how you can stay awake,” Fitz retorted. “Is Shield history really that interesting to you?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. And it should be to you too,” Simmons sighed. “At any rate, I was only joking. I've got the chemicals right here,” she carefully unzipped the bag that hung at her hip and started lining the sealed beakers up on their desk. 

Visibly relaxing, Fitz said, “What the hell, Simmons, you nearly gave me a heart attack, going on about how _I'm_ going to have to go face Professor Vau--”

“Ahem,” their chemistry professor cleared his throat. 

Breaking eye contact, Fitz and Simmons looked around the room. All of the other cadets were in their seats, sitting silently and attentively, pointedly looking anywhere but at the pair of young scientists bickering in the middle of the room. Though in truth the skirmish was unavoidable. 

“Since you two are already standing up, I take it that you're prepared to present your experiments first?” their professor looked at Fitz and Simmons sternly. 

Fitz's eyes went wide and the pair instinctively drew closer together. 

The professor cast his eyes around the room, “unless, of course, someone else wants to volunteer to go first?” 

Nearly every hand shot in the air and Fitz and Simmons sat down at their desk, almost giddy with relief. Thank goodness the academy was full of overly eager science nerds, desperate to impress anyone higher up in Shield. This would give them some time to set up. 

Fitz took out his screwdriver and made some crucial final touches on his device as the first pair of cadets went up to present. Simmons organized her beakers in order of use and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She scooted her chair closer to Fitz and they settled in together to watch the remainder of the presentations. 

The first two cadets were done with their presentation by the time Fitz and Simmons finished prepping for their own. They stood in front of the classroom, a steaming beaker between them, nervous looks on their faces as they awaited the professor's dismissal.

The professor leaned back in his seat and looked down his nose at the pair of scientists. “Abysmal,” he grunted after a long pause, “C-.” 

The two students began to voice their protest, but he cut them off. “Grades are final. Take a seat.” 

Simmons allowed a sharp intake of breath and her eyes locked with Fitz's. They ducked behind Fitz's device. 

“He's grading on the spot, what do we do?” Simmons whispered. 

Fitz's knee bounced apprehensively, but his voice remained calm, “we stick to the plan,” he murmured, “our presentation is going to be great.” 

“Are you sure?” Simmons asked, absently playing with her hair. “I don't want to be humiliated in front of the whole class.” 

“I'm sure,” Fitz responded. “I have to be sure. Simmons, we've got this.” He reached out to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Jemma thought the contact would only last a moment but he kept his hand there, his thumb making circular motions on the soft fabric of her sweater. She relaxed, leaning in closer to him. 

Jemma cast a sidelong glance at her handsome lab partner. After he _finally_ started talking to her, their chatter had been non-stop. He came up with a brilliant plan to combine both of their disciplines in the project. Her skills as a chemist would be aided by a device of his own invention. She didn't know how to say it out loud, but they made quite the duo. Like their project, they were a perfect blend of engineering and biochem. 

_Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself,_ Jemma thought. But then again, his hand remained on her shoulder, absently stroking her. Was this just to comfort her? To make her feel secure so that she didn't mess up their presentation? Or did he want to touch her and just needed a reason? 

For a while Jemma had been trying to push down the initial attraction she felt the first time they met. He didn't start speaking to her until recently, so she thought it best from a logical standpoint to let those feelings go, but his constant proximity made that task difficult. Now that it was coupled with his sparkling conversation and cheeky grins, her objective to forget her feelings was nearly insurmountable. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be achieved. Jemma's face grew hot at the idea, and she quickly turned away so Fitz wouldn't see her blush. 

It didn't seem like very long until every other pair of lab partners had presented. 

“Doctors Fitz and Simmons, you're up,” their professor said, sounding quite bored. He hadn't given out anything higher than a B- on any presentation. “Try not to disappoint me.”

Fitz removed his hand from Simmons' shoulder and they stood up together. 

* * * 

“Together we realized that our respective degrees, engineering--” Fitz pointed to himself.

“--And biochem,” Simmons pointed to herself, “both deal heavily in thermodynamics. So with Dr. Fitz's device--” 

“--And Dr. Simmons' formula.”

“We were able to show the transference of energy from the chemical--”

“To the mechanical.” 

“When my chemicals were poured into Fitz's device, they created--” 

“A reaction, whose energy was used to power my device.” Fitz smiled at the professor. 

Simmons nodded. “We're sure that upon looking the device over, you'll find no _other_ ways to power it.”

“D'you have any questions?” Fitz asked at the conclusion of the presentation. The two young scientists proudly stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind the whirring mechanism. 

The professor pondered the two of them for a long moment. He scribbled notes onto his grading sheet. 

“Excellent work,” he said, standing up to shake their hands. “You two did what no other pair in this class was capable of, working _together_ , using your combined smarts to showcase your topic in a way that extends _beyond_ chemistry. Well done. I owe you nothing short of a perfect score. Class dismissed.” 

Amid the shuffling of papers and feet in the class's mad dash for the exit, Fitz and Simmons smiled at each other thoughtfully. 

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Leo reached out to her for a congratulatory handshake, but instead Simmons gave a little hop and pulled him into a hug. “We did it, Fitz,” she whispered. 

“I knew we could,” Leo replied, appreciating her warmth. _We're smarter together, Simmons,_ he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. He didn't want his reckless abandon to mess up this budding friendship. Leo pulled away from her and they shared another long look – a look of achievement, pride, and friendship – before they packed up their belongings and walked together out of class. 

Side-by-side and stride-for-stride, Fitz and Simmons made their way down the crowded hall together. Congratulations were abound from classmates, some bitter and some sincere. Leo was used to people being impressed by his achievements, but this was different. He had never achieved something _together_ with someone before. Working with Simmons was refreshing in more ways than one and he looked forward to their next project. The two of them paused in front of the elevator and Fitz pressed the down button. 

Simmons turned to Fitz, “Hey Fitz, I have a question for you, if it's not too much trouble.” 

“Anything,” Fitz replied. “Go ahead and ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! Kudos are always appreciated and comments are always gushed over!


	4. First Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate their victory in chem lab, Simmons asks Fitz to dinner. But is it a date, or are they just going as friends?

_Simmons turned to Fitz, “Hey Fitz, I have a question for you, if it's not too much trouble.”_

_“Anything,” Fitz replied. “Go ahead and ask.”_

Jemma's heart pounded in her chest, but she shrugged her bag over her shoulder and tried to look nonchalant. She smiled at Fitz awkwardly, unblinking, lips closed with the corners of her mouth upturned. It wasn't a pleasant sight. 

_Just get it out, Jemma,_

“Fitz I was wondering if you wanted to go get dinner,” she said quickly. Her eyes flitted to his for a fraction of a second before looking away. 

Looking confused, Fitz said, “It's only three o'clock. I mean I'm a bit peckish but it's kind of an odd time for dinner, don't you think?” 

_Great choice, Jemma._

“Tonight,” Jemma playfully hit him on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.” 

Fitz's eyebrows scrunched together. “We always have dinner together. Same time in the dining hall then, yeah?” 

“Well, I was thinking we could eat somewhere else,” Jemma paused for a breath. “Somewhere... nicer. As a celebratory 'we did it!' kind of a thing. If you want. It's no big deal.” Simmons cringed internally at her rambling. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Fitz replied, his ears turning red. “We can't leave the academy though, so we'll have to go to--” 

“The Carter Lounge,” Simmons finished his thought with the name of the academy's onsite fine dining establishment. It was mostly used as a place where cadets could talk up higher level Shield agents in hopes of landing coveted roles in Shield upon graduation, but anyone in Shield could dine there. It was a quiet and intimate atmosphere that was both formal and expensive, but that meant it was out of the way of the prying eyes of their peers. The same way cadets would escape to the boiler room to avoid academy higher ups, they would escape to the Carter Lounge to avoid each other. “Want to meet there at around eight?” 

The elevator doors opened up and Fitz and Simmons stepped inside, followed by a group of cadets from their chemistry class. 

“Certainly, that sounds great,” Fitz replied. 

On the ground floor, Fitz and Simmons said their goodbyes and Simmons made her way back to her dormitory to have a good panic. 

_What on Earth did I just do?_ Jemma berated herself, _The Carter Lounge? I might as well have proposed! Which is all fine and good if he feels the same way, but what if he doesn't? This is so embarrassing._

She wanted to sink into her bed and mourn the inevitable loss of their friendship, which would be short-lived after she asked him on a date that he probably had no interest in going on. But Jemma knew better, and she knew that if there was any chance that he would _want_ this to be a date, she had to look good.

Jemma let her hair out of her usual ponytail and loosely curled it. She redid her makeup, carefully applying dark eyeshadow and mascara to her usually-bare eyes. Then she crossed the room to her closet and dug deep in the back. 

Though normally down-to-Earth, Jemma, like any other teenage girl, sometimes liked to fantasize about true love and perfect dates. Perhaps, when she prepared to go to SciTech over three months prior, those fantasies were what drove her to pack the one item she thought she'd never wear but always hoped she would: a little black dress. 

The dress was fit-and-flare, tastefully revealing, and had just the right amount of sparkle. When Jemma first tried it on, she imagined it would be the perfect dress to knock the socks off of a handsome young scientist. She hung the dress on her closet door and looked at it, her stomach twisting with nerves at the idea of actually living out her schoolgirl fantasy. If she wore this dress to go out with Fitz, there would be no denying that this was a date. It was all-or-nothing. Go-big-or-go-home. 

Was Jemma willing to risk that? 

At 7:45 Simmons raced up a hill at the far end of the campus to the podium at the Carter Lounge. “My name is Jemma Simmons, I have reservations for two at eight o'clock,” she panted to the maitre d. 

“Are you ready to be seated now?” the aging man asked, peering at her through round glasses. 

“No, my – my friend has yet to arrive. I just need a favor.” 

“Yes, Ms. Simmons?” 

“Dr. Simmons, and I would prefer it if there was no mention of this reservation. If it comes up, could you say I put us on the list when I arrived?” 

“Most certainly, Dr. Simmons.” 

* * * 

“Dude, nice.” 

Fitz turned around to see a tan, sandy-haired, American guy from his chem lab coming up beside him. He looked at the man in puzzlement. 

“Hey man, are you deaf? I said _dude, nice._ ” The American repeated. 

Fitz snorted. “No, I am not deaf. And what's a _dude_ like you doing here anyway?” 

“Not cool bro,” the American replied with a shake of his head. “FYI, I have a PhD in marine biology. Shield recruited me from the USC because of my totally radical work saving chemically poisoned dolphins in the Pacific. But I don't remember asking for your credentials.” 

“Sorry,” Fitz muttered, looking down and away from him, hoping he would leave. The American kept pace beside him. 

“Name's Brad,” Brad introduced himself, holding out his fist to Fitz. 

Fitz grabbed Brad's fist and shook it. “Dr. Fitz.” 

“Oh, I know, Little Lee-yo. I'm a big fan of your work. And by your work I mean your work on little J-Simmies, am I right?” He held his hand up for a high-five, which Fitz ignored. 

“J... Simmies?” Fitz questioned. 

Brad curled his lip and wriggled his eyebrows. “You know, that fine little English muffin you've been schmoozing up on this entire semester. I would go after her myself, but word on the street is that she isn't exactly _street legal,_ if you know what I mean. But you, little dude, can probably scoot by under that radar, and you have a date with her to-nii-iiight,” Brad sang the the last word while wrapping his arm around Fitz's shoulders. 

Fitz flinched away from Brad's crude speech. “Dr. Simmons and I do not have a date, we're just going to dinner.” 

“That's a date, bro,” Brad practically hollered in Fitz's ear. 

“It isn't,” was all Fitz could think to reply. “Don't be ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculous I am not, Little Leo. Trust me, if she turns up looking hot in a tiny little dress, it's a date. Pound it,” Brad instructed, once again holding out his fist to Fitz. Fitz lightly bumped Brad's fist with his own, the golden ticket to get Brad to walk away. 

It was ridiculous. Simmons only wanted to celebrate a job well done. She had said so herself. 

Sweating, Fitz rushed back to his dorm. _Is this a date?_ he asked himself. He had never been on a date before. He never wanted to go on a date before. Did he now? _Don't be ridiculous,_ he repeated to himself. He was there to work, and Simmons undoubtedly was too. There was no way that she could have possibly meant... _I mean, me and her..._ He took a shaky, uncertain breath. _That's..._ well, he knew what it was. 

But they were going to the Carter Lounge, so Fitz put on his best suit. Okay, his only suit. But by default that made it his best. 

At 7:46 Leo strolled up to the Carter Lounge. He scanned the small crowd of people waiting outside, looking for Simmons. He doubted she'd be there already but he wanted to put their names in. He made his way to the podium, where stood a girl with curly brown hair wearing fitted black pants and a flowing blue top. He waited patiently behind her. 

“Most certainly, Dr. Simmons,” the maitre d said to the girl. 

“Simmons?” Fitz asked, stepping to the side to look at her face. 

“Fitz!” Simmons greeted him. “You're early. I was just putting our names in,” she turned back to the maitre d, “my friend is here.” 

_My friend,_ she said. She wasn't wearing a dress. This was, according to that Brad fellow, not a date. Leo wasn't sure if the empty feeling in his stomach was relief, hunger, or something else entirely. Maybe a combination of the three. 

“Right this way,” the maitre d said to the two of them, menus in hand. 

Fitz and Simmons walked side-by-side behind him into the lounge. 

“This place is amazing, Fitz,” Jemma said, breathless, as she gazed up at the high ceilings. Her heels clicked unevenly on the smooth marble floor. 

Fitz nodded as his wide eyes wandered about the lounge. Instead of walls there were floor-to-ceiling windows, chandeliers hung from above, giving off very little light. Each glossy wooden table was adorned with a candle and the white cloth napkins were folded into roses at each place setting. They were shown to a small circular booth for two in the middle of the main dining room. The booth's cushions were as black as the night outside and its back was high enough to clear the head of an NBA player. The overall effect was overwhelmingly intimate. Feeling dizzy, Fitz was thankful for the place to sit down. 

They scooted into the booth beside each other as the maitre d spieled about the specials and left them with menus. 

Fitz glanced at Simmons. “This place is...” 

“Beautiful,” she finished. 

He laughed nervously, “yeah.” 

Simmons tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for coming with me, Fitz. I've wanted to come here since I first came to the academy but I wanted to wait until I turned eighteen because I wanted wine and then I didn't have anyone to go with because I haven't really made many friends and you and I were –”

“Not speaking yet,” Fitz finished curtly. 

“Yes, and even then I didn't know you'd want to go with me, and I must say I'm genuinely surprised,” Simmons continued. 

Fitz smirked. “Well I wanted to come here too,” he said, “get a better idea about the Shield beyond the academy walls.” 

“We haven't gone beyond the academy walls,” Simmons reminded him. 

“It feels like we have,” Leo smiled shyly. Maybe Simmons didn't intend this to be a date; he'd never know. And maybe the atmosphere, the low lighting, and their proximity were going to his head. Whatever the case, his hand felt compelled to cross the table to hers.

“Good evening, I'm Margaret.” 

Fitz looked up to see a slender blonde waitress standing at the table. He carefully retracted his hand to wave at her as Simmons did the same. 

“Can I get you two started with anything to drink?” Margaret asked. 

“We were hoping to see a wine list,” Fitz replied smoothly. 

“Certainly, may I see your ID's?” 

Fitz and Simmons took their ID's out of their wallets and slapped them on the table, somewhat triumphantly. They both had recently turned eighteen and it was exciting to be able to legally drink. 

The waitress peered down at their ID's for a moment before sliding them back toward the pair of scientists. 

“I'm sorry, but you have to be twenty-one to drink alcohol,” she apologized. “Could I interest you in sodas, or perhaps sparkling water?” 

Fitz and Simmons made annoyed eye contact at the sudden realization of their geographic location. Anywhere else in the world they'd be able to properly celebrate their belated eighteenth birthdays. 

Simmons put a finger to her lips and looked up at the waitress. “Could you just...”

“Give us a minute?” Fitz completed her thought. 

The waitress nodded and made herself scarce. 

“Well that blows,” Fitz muttered, slumping in his seat.

“Agreed,” Simmons sighed. She paused for a beat and then asked, “do you want to get out of here?” 

Leo's face flushed with heat. “Wha – what?” he stammered, loosening his necktie nervously. 

“I heard of another place we could go, a place where we could celebrate _properly_.” 

“But you've always wanted to come here, haven't you?” 

“We can come back when we're old enough,” Simmons shrugged. 

“We can't just abandon our table, can we?” Fitz interjected. 

Simmons scooted out of the booth and stood up, offering her hand to Fitz. “Of course we can, there's lots of people waiting outside for our table. It would be a disservice to keep it when we could be having more fun somewhere else.” 

Using Simmons' hand as leverage, Fitz stood up. “What did you have in mind?” 

Laughing, Simmons said, “come on, I'll show you.” 

In the middle of the campus, Fitz and Simmons slowed down to catch their breath from the mad dash from the Carter Lounge. Simmons lead the way to the back of the main building, where there were a few steps that lead down to a service door. She knocked twice fast, paused for a beat, and then knocked once more. The door opened at once and an upperclassman pointed wordlessly down a shadowy hallway. 

“Thank you, sir,” Simmons said to the man. He nodded gravely. 

“Simmons, what the hell are we doing here?” Fitz whispered, drawing close to her as she led the way down the corridor. This seemed like a good place for a murder. 

Simmons stopped at a door with “Boiler Room” painted on it in black letters. “You'll see,” she said as she opened the door. 

The door opened to flashing lights and the sounds of pumping music. Confused, Fitz stepped inside, onto a catwalk overlooking a crowded area with pool tables and a full bar. He looked to Simmons, silently asking for an explanation. 

“Welcome to the boiler room,” was all she said before leading the way down a set of metal stairs. 

“How did you know about this place?” Fitz asked, following behind her. 

“I overheard some older cadets talking about it and I decided to investigate,” Simmons replied. “Now _this_ is true Scitech tradition.” 

The pair of young scientists fought their way through the masses to the bar. Simmons held two fingers up and the bartender slid her two beers. She offered one to Fitz, who hesitated. 

“What's the problem?” Simmons asked. 

“I've never drank before,” Fitz confessed. 

Simmons shrugged. “Me neither.” 

They clinked their bottles together and took a swig at the same time. 

Fitz grimaced, “this is...” 

“Disgusting,” Simmons agreed.

They drank again. Fitz racked up a game of pool while Simmons got sticks. They played pool for the rest of the night, overdressed and underage in the SciTech boiler room. Simmons won nearly every game but neither one cared. They talked about science, their childhoods, their families, anything and everything. The weird feelings earlier in the day were gone and the pair of young scientists enjoyed the night as the friends that, if they believed in fate, they'd say they were always meant to be. 

At 2am they were the only ones left in the boiler room when the bartender kicked them out. They stumbled back to their dormitories and hoped that this was only the first of many wonderful nights out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm sorry I took so long with this chapter, but it is a bit longer than the previous chapters and I also took a few more liberties on this one. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
